Things Change
by Sheytune
Summary: When Booth thinks Brennan is acting strangely, he turns to Sweets for advice.


**Note: **This one didn't really work as a fight, so a one-shot it is.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. I'm not sure I'd want to – they're not good at doing what I want them to do.

* * *

My last patient of the day was _finally_ gone. It had been a busy, emotion-packed day, and I was happy to have some time to get my thoughts together and finish off the day's notes before heading off to meet Daisy for dinner.

I took a minute to just _sit _- I needed a bit of space before I could get back to my paperwork.

In retrospect, that was a mistake. There was a quick knock on my door, followed quickly by Agent Booth. He walked in and sat down.

My first thought was that he was working a case and needed a profile, but he didn't have a case file in his hand. He sat on my couch, looking both determined and uncomfortable, his gaze on his clasped hands.

"Agent Booth? Is there something I can help you with?", I queried.

He opened his mouth as if to answer, then took a breath of air, his gaze still on his hands. Finally, he looked up.

"Sweets? Is it my imagination, or has Bones been acting ... unusual?"

I should have known that only concern for his partner would bring him to my office asking for help. I sat down across from him.

"Unusual how, Agent Booth?"

He stood up, and started pacing across the floor as if it was the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

I waited, hoping he'd tell me what was going on – and hoping that I'd know how to deal with it when he did.

Eventually, he stopped and said, "OK, here's the thing. I think Bones has ... changed since my surgery. But that doesn't make sense, right? I mean, _I'm_ the one who had his skull cracked open. I must be imagining things."

When in doubt, paraphrase. "So what you're saying is that you think Dr. Brennan has been acting strangely since your surgery."

He nodded curtly.

"Well, I suggest that your surgery was a very intense time for Dr. Brennan - emotionally, not physically. She was _in the operating room_ during the operation. She was there when you woke up. She saw your confusion. But I'm a little puzzled - why do you say she's acting strangely now?"

That started the pacing again, but not for long - after a couple of trips across the room, he collapsed into the sofa, his head in his hands. He sat there, as I eyed the clock on the wall and wondered if I'd make it to dinner on time.

Finally he looked up. "OK, Sweets, if you tell anyone about this _I will shoot you_."

I leaned forwards. "Your secret is safe with me, Agent Booth."

Reassured by my statement, he started talking. "The thing is - since my surgery, Bones has been acting odd."

"Right. You mentioned that. Why do you think she's been acting oddly?"

He couldn't meet my eyes as he continued. "She ... OK, look, Sweets. Bones and I, we're partners, right?" At my nod, he continued, "Lately, though, she's been touching me _a lot_. _Way_ more than she used to. She adjusts my tie. She touches my hand. Yesterday she reached over and took my tie off in the middle of the lab. And her clothes ... is it my imagination, or are her shirts a lot more low-cut than they used to be? And it seems like she wears a dress every second day, even though she complains that they're no good in the field."

I leaned back. "Is she behaving inappropriately?"

He looked shocked. "No! It's just ... look, if it was _anyone_ else, I'd think she was hitting on me. But it's Bones, right?"

I nodded. "And so you don't think she's hitting on you."

His torment showed on his face. "I don't _know_. It's _Bones_. She doesn't hit on me. She's my _partner_. But …"

As he trailed off, I asked, "How would you feel about it if she _were_ hitting on you?"

He leaned back, resting his head on the top of the couch. "I don't … terrified. That's how I'd feel."

I sat forward in my chair. "Why would you be terrified, Agent Booth? You're an FBI agent, a former Army Ranger. Why would your partner hitting on you be cause for _terror_?"

He raised his head to look at me. "Because she's my _partner_. She's my _friend_. And I'm afraid that she just sees me as a guy she could have sex with."

"And that's a problem for you."

"Yes, that's a problem for me! I don't want to just have sex with her!"

Now _that's _an interesting choice of words. "Agent Booth, a while ago we had a discussion about whether your feelings for Dr. Brennan were a result of your brain surgery. Do you still feel like you're in love with her?"

He looked away. "I don't know."

"Don't you?"

He turned his head to glare at me. "Fine. Yes, I still feel like I'm in love with her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Sweets. How could you even ask that?"

"So if I understand you correctly, you believe you are in love with Dr. Brennan, and when you think she might be hitting on you, it terrifies you?"

He nodded, his face still turned towards the window.

I glanced at the clock again. "Why?"

He looked at me, obviously puzzled. "Why?"

"Yes, Agent Booth, _why_ are you terrified when Dr. Brennan – a woman you claim to be in love with – appears to be hitting on you?"

I didn't think he was going to answer. In fact, I half expected him to storm out. He didn't, though. "I don't want to lose her."

"So you'd rather go on as you are – in love with her, watching her date other guys – than take a chance at losing her?"

If I hadn't been listening so closely, I might have missed his answer. "Yes."

I looked at the clock yet again. I _really_ needed to get going. Daisy would not be happy if I was late. "Agent Booth, you came here for my advice, so here it is. You're at a crossroads – you can keep doing what you've been doing and be miserable, or you can take a chance at happiness. My advice is to take that leap. Make sure she knows you're not going anywhere, and then tell her how you feel. The worst case is that she says no and things are a little weird between you for a while. Best case? She feels the same way you do."

His head whipped around to look at me. "Really?"

I nodded. "Really. Tell her."

He stood up, a mixture of joy and excitement and fear on his face, and grabbed my hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Thanks, Sweets. I'll do that." Before I could answer, he was gone.

I pulled my papers together and put them in my briefcase. If I left immediately, I'd just make it to dinner on time. I'd have to finish my paperwork later.

I couldn't leave it until morning. Who knew what the morning would bring?


End file.
